


Love with a Smile

by orphan_account



Category: Gotham (TV), Shameless (US)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Alcohol, Degradation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Gun Violence, Gunplay, I don't know, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multiple Personalities, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 03:33:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10179707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mickey comes home to find out a new side of Ian.W.I.P.Please excuse any inaccurate information. The last thing I would like to do is spread misinformation of a serious condition.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my friend ChatonNoir](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+friend+ChatonNoir).



> Still playing with this story line. It originally started as a request/discussion with a friend of mine.
> 
> Please excuse any inaccurate information, and correct me (in a respectful way, preferably).

AU Crossover Request: Ian Gallagher has Dissociative Personality Disorder. Mickey meets Ian's second personality; Jerome Valeska.

The keys jingle in the lock of the small apartment. Mickey turns the knob softly and opens the door, careful not to wake his partner in case he was still sleeping. The man steps carefully to the bathroom and starts to yank his jacket off. His eyes automatically travel to a collection of red spots in the sink. Sirens began to ring in Mickey's head.  
“Fuck. Fuck.” he says in an alarmed tone. The man turns and almost takes down the wall across from the door with the force of running out. “I-Ian!”  
He slams into the door to their bedroom and stops short when he sees the redhead laying on the bed with his back to the door. Still breathing.  
Thank god… Mickey breathes a sigh of relief. He approaches the man and tears the blanket from his body. Noticing the glinting black of a firearm beside Ian, he pipes up.  
“Ian! Give me the gun, man. Lemme see your arms.” Mick's Chicago accent hung heavy in the musty air. When he got no response, he reached for his partner and attempted to flip him over. Next thing he knew, he was on the other side of the room, staring bewildered at a dead eyed Gallagher.  
“Don't touch me.” Ian growled, the barrel of the gun pressed to his temple. He looked like he was debating whether or not he should point it at Mickey or himself. What game was he playing?  
A horrifying smile spread across the man's pale face and he let out a dark, husky chuckle. His eyes were rolled up in an unsettling way, trained fully on Mickey's fearful face.  
“Ian--”  
“Gallagher's not home currently.” Ian drawled, crooking his face upward, chin jutted out and smile wiped from his face. He stared down his nose at Mickey Milkovich, grinding the gun into his skull a little more.  
At any point other than this, Mickey would have found this demeaning face sexy. Except, there was a gun poised against that face, ready to blow it apart at any moment.  
“Did you take your meds?” Mickey asked wholeheartedly, placing his palms in the air like he was facing a cornered animal. “Ian, let me see your arms. Now.”  
The villainous looking man before him lowered the gun slowly but kept it in his hand. He stepped forward, forcing Mickey to back up to the wall. Ian tilted his head and smiled, chuckling gleefully. He raised the gun once more but to Mickey's forehead this time.  
“Ian. Isn't. Present.” he pressed. His face went slack in annoyance. His finger hovered over the trigger, shaking in protest.  
“You're-- You're scaring me…” Mickey choked out. The smile on Ian's face grew. It looked painful, like the corners of his mouth were drawn up in a dentist chair. His voice cracked in a little burst of laughter, as if he had been holding it in.  
Ian pushed away and keeled over, howling with laughter, “You're pathetic.”  
Mickey took the chance and charged, bringing his knee up to kick Ian's ribs. Before the redhead could aim, Mickey knocked the gun from his grasp and threw a punch. His knuckles connected with Ian's jaw, so hard that it knocked the ROTC veteran out. Mick was surprised it didn't leave U-UP imprinted into his skin.

“Fuck…” The soft voice of Ian filled the bedroom and he sat up, rubbing his jaw. It was raw to the touch. The Gallagher slowly stood up. He peered down the hall and saw Mickey's coat on the ground. “Mickey?”  
Ian called out for his lover and shuffled to the kitchen. That's when he heard a flattering belch from the living area.  
“Mickey…” he calls before walking into a scene of Mickey holding a bottle of whiskey. He glances up and stands his ground. Ian smirks a little at the look on Mickey's face, “Hard day?”  
“Like fuck it was a hard day, you jackass. What are you trying to pull?” he stood and pointed an accusatory finger at Ian, who simply smiled. Albeit the smile grew weaker in worry.  
“When did you get home--”  
“Right before you shoved a fucking pistol in my face. Remember?”  
“What the hell are you talking abo--”  
“Who the fuck is Jerome?” Mickey asked, setting his bottle down. Ian's blood ran cold as he swallowed thickly. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. “Listen, if you're screwing another guy behind my back, okay. I just need you be honest with me. Am I not making you happy?”  
“There isn't another guy. Mickey, it's complicated--”  
“Oh, so, it's gone from a picket fence Chicago life, to ‘it's complicated’. Just tell me the truth--”  
“That's not what I'm getting at.” Ian furrowed his brows, wincing at the burning in his arm. He ignores it and gives his boyfriend a pleading look.  
“So what's complicated? Me?” the Russian descendant pointed at himself.  
“No! It's not you--”  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. ‘It's not you, it's me and all that crap.” he huffed, taking a swig of Jack. “The bipolar, faggot with daddy issues isn't happy with me anymore. What can get more complicated than tha--”  
“I have an identity disorder, Mick!” Ian yelled, eyes closed tight. Mickey stopped, giving him an incredulous look.  
“F’real?” he gaped, looking down. Hot regret washed over him. “Fuck… I'm sorry…”  
“Yeah. So am I.” Ian raised his arms and threw them down as if to say, there you go. He felt the sting of his arm hitting fabric and hissed. He finally looked at his arm and saw the raw, angry words carved into his arm. Jerome… Hahahaha… And even a crudely drawn smiley face were deep in his pale skin.  
“Ian… Why didn't you just tell me, baby?” Mickey set his liquor down and moseyed his way toward the red head.  
“I don't know. I already have enough issues as you just stated, so…” Ian shied away from Mickey’s touch and stared down at his arm.  
“I’m sorry, Gallagher. That’s not what I was getting at… I was upset, my head wasn’t screwed on straight…” Mickey stood in shame, guilt written on his sulky face. Ian smacked his arm slightly, making a jab at his partner’s drunkenness. He smiled slightly and Mick looked up in surprise that the mood had relaxed a little. He smirked, raising his brows. “Oh, you wanna go, Gallagher?”

**Author's Note:**

> I think I may bring Cameron Monaghan as an alter, as the system's Protector. That may make things really, really confusing, or just...cringy, perhaps?
> 
> Feedback is much appreciated, friends! Constructive criticism is my buddy. Hopefully.
> 
> (Please be soft with me, I am fragile.)


End file.
